Brownie

My friend Stirling Greenlee’s sense of humor is as well developed as her cooking skills. She admits to being a fervent potluck lover, and I suspect it may be because she says that for years her idea of formal dining was eating from a tablecloth without cat hair. One of her most amusing potluck stories involves a less than successful event where guests were asked to bring something that “reminds you of your childhood.” Much to her horror, everyone brought white food—bland grits, milk toast, angel food cake. “As soon as everyone got out of there I imagine they bolted and went straight to Burger King,” she recalls. Too bad no one thought of butterscotch brownies, a childhood favorite of mine. This version features a sugary, lightly caramelized butter icing that ensures the brownies stay moist and travel well. On top of that, the king-size recipe makes it a top-tier candidate for large potlucks, as well as picnics and family gatherings.

For the most part, Mama has always made everything from scratch. Homemade cakes, cookies, and pies were the norm, but she would open one box when she made brownies. My father worked for a company that made, among myriad other things, brownie mix. I remember opening the Christmas gifts from corporate friends that contained a potpourri of company products, including the familiar red box—the brownie mix. Perhaps one of the reasons I am so fond of these brownies is that they represent my first solo forays into baking. Other than turning on the oven, I was allowed to prepare the brownies all by myself.

My grandmother used to make these easy cookies for us all the time. They are chocolaty, chewy little bites that taste a lot like brownies. (That would probably be why they are called brownie bites.) You may want to think about making a double batch, because they seem to disappear quickly.

These are my favorite kind of brownies. I like chocolate, but I’m not into the serious fudgy-chocolate kind of stuff. With these brownies I can pick out the ones with more cream cheese and leave the more chocolaty ones for someone else (like my mom).

These are the best brownies for crumbling into ice cream, since they’ll stay nice and chewy even after they’re frozen.

If you like your brownies airy and not too dense, these are the ones for you.

I have a blanket mistrust of any recipe with a superlative in the title. “The ultimate” or “the world’s finest” always makes me raise an eyebrow. But how else can I describe these brownines? I’ve made a lot of brownies in my life, and these really are the best. I learned to make them from the late Robert Steinberg, who changed the world of American chocolate when he cofounded Scharffen Berger chocolate. Part of Robert’s unique charm was that he was quick to argue, but I learned that like most people who hold strong opinions (at least food-wise), they’re invariably right when you taste the results. He adapted his recipe from one by cookbook author Maida Heatter. The first time I made these brownies, they were a dry, crumbly disaster. Still unconvinced that they were worthy of their accolades, I listened carefully as he walked me through the steps. When he asked if I had stirred the batter vigorously for 1 full minute, I stammered and then finally admitted that I cut that step short. “Aha!” he said. So I made them again, and discovered that was one life-changing minute.

It’s a misconception that the French don’t like American food. Step into any bakery in Paris and you’re likely to see one of two things: le gâteau au fromage or les brownies. Usually the cheesecake is pretty good, but the brownies are too often pale facsimiles. For some reason that I don’t understand, the French never put enough chocolate in their brownies. In my efforts to promote international understanding, I hand out brownies freely to my Parisian friends in hopes that pretty soon, someone will get the message and ramp up the fudginess of French brownies. (Perhaps it’s because the word “fud-gee” isn’t part of the French vocabulary?) And because I sometimes can’t help showing off my American audaciousness, I’ll whip up this recipe that combines the best of both the cheesecake and brownie worlds and pass the squares around. They tend to take people by surprise—I think the French need a little more time to get used to such a cra-zee combination.

The key to really moist, fudgy brownies is not to overmix the batter. For extra decadence, lightly frost them with softened chocolate ganache (page 108) and sprinkle with extra toasted nuts on top. These treats are for serious chocolate lovers.

Up until I created this recipe, allergen-free, gluten-free brownies were a bit like the Holy Grail. I kept searching, but to no avail. I worked on my own recipe, but making brownies without dairy, soy, gluten, and, most of all, eggs is not easy! Granted, there were recipes out there that called themselves brownies, but they were really just mini cupcakes. A chewy, moist brownie with a nice crusty, glossy top remained elusive. Until now, that is. Yup, that’s right, after years of trying, I’ve finally baked it—an honest-to-goodness allergen-free, gluten-free, vegan tray of real brownies. Go ahead, I dare you, try eating just one.

Brownie mixes are easy, I know, but what you gain in time you lose in flavor. This recipe comes together quickly and yields fudgy brownies with more chocolate taste than you’ll ever get from a mix.

This recipe’s dynamic is hard to explain, and I really like that. This is the charm of the blondie. The vanilla and chocolate have a subtle repartee, with neither really dominating nor giving way to the other. Initially, the vanilla seems to cede center stage to the chocolate, but if you pay close attention, you’ll notice how the vanilla rounds out the chocolate with a seductive mellowness, ultimately creating balance. Making them bite-size gives a great crunchy texture, but you can also bake them in a cake pan and serve them as squares. Either way, blondies are best served warm.

In order to get the same melty chocolate sensation that comes with the basic brownie without evaporated cane juice, I rely on a simple method of denting the agave brownies in the center and filling them with a puddle of rich, silky chocolate sauce (page 93). The sauce seeps out when bitten into and is so gratifying I wasn’t surprised when they began to move off the shelves faster than their sweeter counterpart. You can mix it up a bit by adding vanilla sauce to the center if there happens to be some, you know, lying around. Be sure to keep a special eye on the agave with this recipe. It’ll dictate whether you end up with a dry chocolate roll or a luscious fudgelike brownie.

I used to make from-the-box brownies on Friday nights to keep me busy during commercials for Miami Vice, in my opinion the premiere television drama behind Degrassi High. My sister Bridget taught me that if you take the brownies out of the oven about five minutes early, you will have a perfect gooey texture. At BabyCakes NYC, I developed a recipe to replicate that consistency but with a full cooking time, mostly to avoid the retching stomachache I’d have for the second half of the Don Johnson fashion parade. Initially these brownies were made in a square casserole pan and each batch yielded twelve brownies. Because they are so rich, however, I decided to bake them in mini-muffin trays and serve them as bite-size morsels. Now these tiny little flavor agents are nearly impossible to keep in the case. If you’re whipping up a batch, be warned: You may want to double the recipe.

No apologies here. These are dense and decadent. You’ll want to use a strong dark chocolate—something that stands up to the richness of great butter, fresh eggs, and a lot of sugar.

You’ll be happy to eat veggies for dessert when you taste these cakelike brownies. Zucchini is the surprise ingredient.